


Blurred Picture

by ginsugi



Category: Gintama
Genre: Angst, Family, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginsugi/pseuds/ginsugi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Memories can be a pest, especially if they are about things you don't want to remember. For example your mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blurred Picture

**Author's Note:**

> After I don't have writer's block anymore, my creative juices seem to be overflowing xD I don't really know what made me write this piece, it just... happened. All of this is just my stupid imagination so feel free to disagree with it. I also want to thank dokiprez for reviewing "Choose To Ignore", it meant a lot to me. Anyway, as always, reviews and the like are much appreciated. Enjoy!

Sometimes he caught a glimpse of a very familiar yet blurry picture before his inner eye. It was always the same picture. A woman, looking so much like him and that person that was his little sister, nevertheless so much different from him. Mother...

 

She was weak.

 

She had to lie all day in her bed, now that she was ill. Illness. He couldn't grasp the idea of being ill, it seemed always so unreal. Sure she would be her old self soon (deep down he knew it was too late for her). At times he thought he remembered her smiling but that was too long ago to seem even real to him. Useless, that was what she had become. Unable to do anything, trapped, but was that really her? Or was it him? He never wanted to think about that. Thoughts were a waste of time. Time which was better spent at becoming stronger.

 

She died at the end.

 

But not on some glorious bloody battlefield as it was supposed to be.

 

It was wrong.

 

He hadn't been able to do anything. Weakness. He detested it.

 

Not much later, he forgot when exactly, he left the place that was alleged to be his home. His little sister was left behind (like always) but he said that he didn't care about her. He had no use for weaklings.

 

He didn't regret it one bit.

 

But all of that was just a faraway memory, like an old blurry picture. Soon, he thought, would he be able to forget all of this. It was just a matter of time. Thoughts were useless, unnatural.

 

Memories made weak. Again, this awful word that he despised. He had no idea why, that sometimes, just for a split-second, this image of that woman came to his mind. It belonged to a life that was not his, maybe never even was.

 

It was better to stop these annoying thoughts, once and for all. They were just a nuisance, ready to be thrown in the trash.

 

But fortunately for him, he knew a very satisfactory method of erasing useless memories.

 

Blood.


End file.
